XXXI
SUNDAY IN BRISTOL
It was far from Vaughan's humour to play the bully, and before he hadeven reached his bedroom, which looked to the back, he repented of hisvehemence. Between that and the natural turmoil of his feelings he laylong waking; and twice, in a stillness which proclaimed that all waswell, he heard the Bristol clocks tell the hour. After all, then,Brereton had been right! For himself, had the command been his, hewould have adopted more strenuous measures. He would have tried to putfear into the mob before the riot reached its height. And had he doneso, how dire might have been the consequences! How many homes might atthis moment be mourning his action, how many innocent persons besuffering pain and misery!
Whereas Brereton, the strong, quiet man, resisting importunity,shunning haste, keeping his head where others wavered, had carried thecity through its trouble, with scarce the loss of a single life. Trulyhe was one whom
_Non civium ardor prava jubentium, Non vultus instantis tyranni Mente quatit solida!_
Vaughan thought of him with a new respect, and of himself with a newhumility. He was forced to acknowledge that even in that field ofaction which he had quitted, and to which he was now inclined toreturn, he was not likely to pick up a marshal's baton.
He slept at length, and long and heavily, awaking towards ten o'clockwith aching limbs and a cheek so sore that it brought all that hadpassed to instant recollection. He found his hot water at his door,and he dressed slowly and despondently, feeling the reaction andthinking of Mary, and of that sunny morning, six months back, when hehad looked into Broad Street from a window of this very house, anddreamed of a modest bonnet and a sweet blushing face. An hourafter that, he remembered, he had happened on the Honourable--oh,d---- Flixton! All his troubles had started from that unlucky meetingwith him.
He found his breakfast laid in the next room, the coffee and bacon ina Japan cat by the fire. He ate and drank in an atmosphere of gloomyretrospect. If he had never met Flixton! If he had not gone to thatunlucky dinner at Chippinge! If he had spoken to her in ParliamentStreet! If--if--if! The bells of half a dozen churches were ringing,drumming his regrets into him; and he stood awhile irresolute, lookingthrough the window. The inn-yard, which was all the prospect thewindow commanded, was empty; an old liver-and-white pointer,scratching itself in a corner, was the only living thing in it. Butwhile he looked, wondering if the dog had been a good dog in its time,two men came running into the yard with every sign of haste andpressure. One, in a yellow jacket, flung himself against a stable doorand vanished within, leaving the door open. The other pounced on achaise, one of half a dozen ranged under a shed, and by main forcedragged it into the open.
The men's actions impressed Vaughan with a vague uneasiness. Helistened. Was it fancy, or did he catch the sound of a distant shot?And--there seemed to be an odd murmur in the air. He seized his hat,put on his caped coat--for a cold drizzle was falling--and wentdownstairs.
The hall was empty, but through the open doorway he could see a knotof people, standing outside, looking up the street. He made for thethreshold, and asked the rearmost of the starers what it was.
"Eh, what is it?" the man answered volubly. "Oh, they're gone! It'strue enough! And such a crowd as was never seen, I'm told--stoningthem, and shouting 'Bloody Blues!' after them. They're gone right awayto Keynsham, and glad to be there with whole bones!"
"But what is it?" Vaughan asked impatiently. "What has happened, myman? Who're gone?"
The man turned for the first time, and saw who it was. "You have notheard, sir?" he exclaimed.
"Not a word."
"Not that the people have risen? And most part pulled down the MansionHouse? Ay, first thing this morning, sir! They say old Pinney, theMayor, got out at the back just in time or he'd have been murdered!He's had to send the military away--anyways, the Blues who killed thelad last night on the Pithay."
"Impossible!" Vaughan exclaimed, turning red with anger. "You cannothave heard aright."
"It's as true as true!" the man replied, rubbing his hands inexcitement. "As for me," he continued, "I was always for Reform! Andthis will teach the Lords a lesson! They'll know our mind now, andthat Wetherell's a liar, begging your pardon, sir. And the oldCorporation's not much better. A set of Tories mostly! If the WelshBack drinks their cellars dry it won't hurt me, nor Bristol."
Vaughan was too sharply surprised to rebuke the man. Could the storybe true! And if it were, what was Brereton doing? He could not havebeen so foolish as to halve his force in obedience to the people hewas sent to check! But the murmur in the air was a fact, and past theend of the street men were running in anything but a Sunday fashion.
He went back to his room and pocketed his staff. Then he descendedagain and was on his way out, when a person belonging to the housestopped him.
"Mr. Vaughan," she said earnestly, "don't go, sir. You are known afterlast night and will come to harm. You will indeed, sir. And you can dono good. My father says that nothing can be done until to-morrow."
"I will take care of myself," he replied, lightly. But his eyesthanked her. He pushed his way through the gazers at the door, and setoff towards Queen's Square.
At every door men and women were standing looking out. In the distancehe could hear cheering, which waxed louder and more insistent as,prudently avoiding the narrower lanes, he passed down Clare Street toBroad Quay, from which there was an entrance to the northwest cornerof the Square. Alongside the quay, which was fringed with warehousesand sheds, and from which the huge city crane towered up, lay a lineof brigs and schooners; the masts of the more distant of thesetapering to vanishing points in the mist which lay upon the water. Atthe moment, however, Vaughan had no eye for them. He saw them, but histhoughts were with the rioters, and in a twinkling he was within theSquare, and seeing what was to be seen.
He judged that there were not more than fifteen hundred personspresent. Of the whole about one-half belonged to the lowest class.These were gathered about the Mansion House, some drinking before it,others bearing up liquor from the cellars, while others again weretearing out the woodwork of the casements, or wantonly flinging thelast remnants of furniture from the windows. The second moiety of thecrowd, less reckless or of higher position, looked on as at a show; ornow and again, at the bidding of some active rioter, raised a cheerfor Reform, "The King and Reform! Reform!"
There was nothing dreadful, nothing awe-inspiring in the sight. Yet itwas such a sight, for an English city on a Sunday morning, thatVaughan's gorge rose at it. A hundred resolute men might have put themob to flight. And meantime, on every point of vantage, on RedcliffeParade, eastward of the Square, on College Green, and Brandon Hill, tothe westward of it, thousands stood looking in silence on the scene,and by their supineness encouraging the work of destruction.
He thought for a moment of pushing to the front and trying what a fewreasonable words would effect. But as he advanced, his eye caught agleam of colour, and in the corner of the Square, most remote from thedisorder, he discovered a handful of dragoons, seated motionless intheir saddles, watching the proceedings.
The folly of this struck him dumb. And he hurried, at a white heat,across the Square to remonstrate. He was about to speak to thesergeant in charge, when Flixton, with a civilian cloak masking hisuniform, rode up to the men at a foot-pace. Vaughan turned to himinstead.
"Good Heavens, man!" he cried, too hot to mince his words or rememberat the moment what there was between him and Flixton, "What's Breretondoing? What has happened! It is not true that he has sent theFourteenth away?"
Flixton looked down at him sulkily. "He's sent 'em to Keynsham," hesaid, shortly. "If he hadn't, the crowd would have been out of hand!"
"But what do you call them now?" Vaughan retorted, with angry sarcasm."They are destroying a public building in broad daylight! Aren't theysufficiently out of hand?"
Flixton shrugged his shoulders, but did not ans
wer. He was flushed andhas manner was surly.
"And your squad here, looking on and doing nothing? They're worse thanuseless!" Vaughan continued. "They encourage the beggars! They'd bebetter in their quarters than here! Better at Keynsham," he addedbitterly.
"So I've told him," Flixton answered, taking the last words literally."He sent me to see how things are looking. And a d----d pleasant waythis is of spending a wet Sunday!" On which, without more, havingseen, apparently, what he came to see, he turned his horse to go outof the Square by the Broad Quay.
Vaughan walked a few paces beside the horse. "But, Flixton, presshim," he said urgently; "press him, man, to act! To do something!"
"That's all very fine," the Honourable Bob answered churlishly, "butBrereton's in command. And you don't catch me interfering. I am notgoing to take the responsibility off his shoulders."
"But think what may happen to-night!" Vaughan urged. Already he sawthat the throng was growing denser and its movements less random.Somewhere in the heart of it a man was speaking. "Think what mayhappen after dark, if they are as bad as this in daylight?"
Flixton looked askance at him. "Ten to one, only what happened lastnight," he answered. "You all croaked then; but Brereton was right."
Vaughan saw that he argued to no purpose. For Flixton, forward andpositive in small things and on the surface, was discovered by theemergency; all that now remained of his usual self-assertion was asense of injury. Vaughan inquired, instead, where he would findBrereton, and as by this time the crowd had clearly outgrown thecontrol of a single man, he contented himself with walking round theSquare, and learning, by mingling with the fringe, what manner ofspirit moved it.
That spirit, though he heard some ugly threats against Wetherell andthe Bishops and the Lords, was rather a reckless and mischievous thana bloodthirsty one. To obtain drink, to destroy this or that gaol, andby and by to destroy all gaols seemed to the crowd the firstprinciples of Reform.
Presently a cry of "To the Bridewell! Come on! To the Bridewell!"was raised, and led by a dozen hobbledehoys, armed with iron barsplucked from the railings, a body of some hundreds trooped off,helter-skelter, in the direction of the prison of that name.
Vaughan saw that someone must be induced to act; and to him thefollowing hours of that wet, dismal Sunday were a waking nightmare. Hehurried hither and thither, from Guildhall to Council House, fromBrereton's lodgings to the dragoons' quarters, striving to effectsomething and always failing; seeking some cohesion, some decision,some action, and finding none. Always there had just been a meeting,or was going to be a meeting, or would be a meeting by and by. Thecivil power would not act without the military; and the military didnot think itself strong enough to act, but would act if the civilpower would do something which the civil power had made up its mindnot to do. And meantime the supineness of the mass of the citizens wasmarvellous. He seemed to be moving endlessly between lines of men wholounged at their doors, and joked, or waited for the crowd to passthat way. Nothing, it seemed to him, would rouse these men to a senseof the position. It would be a lesson to Wetherell, they said. Itwould be a lesson to the Peers. It would be a lesson to the Tories.The Bridewell was sacked and fired, the great gaol across the New Cutwas firing, the Gloucester gaol in the north of the city wasthreatened. And still it did not occur to these householders, as theylooked down the wet, misty streets, that presently it would be alesson to them.
But at half-past three, with the dusk on that rainy day scarce an houroff, there was a meeting at the Guildhall. Still no cohesion, noaction. On the other hand, much recrimination, many opinions. One wasfor casting all firearms into the float. Another for arming all, fitor unfit. One was for fetching the Fourteenth back, another forsending the Third to join them at Keynsham. One was for appeasing thepeople by parading a dummy figure of their own Recorder through thecity and burning it on College Green. Another for relying on thePolitical Union. In vain Vaughan warned them that the mob wouldpresently attack private property; in vain he offered, in a fewspirited words, to lead the Special Constables to the rescue of thegaol. The meeting, small to begin and always divided, dwindled fast.The handful who were ready to follow him made the support of themilitary a condition. Everybody said, "To-morrow!" To-morrow the_posse comitatus_ might be called out; to-morrow the yeomanry,summoned by the man in the yellow jacket, would be here! To-morrow thesoldiers might act. And in fine--To-morrow!
There was over the door of the Council House of those days a statue ofJustice, lacking the sword and the bandage. Vaughan, passing out indisgust from the meeting, pointed to it. "There is Bristol,gentlemen," he said bitterly. "Your authorities have dropped thesword, and until they regain it we are helpless. I have done my best."And, shrugging his shoulders, he started for Brereton's lodgings totry a last appeal.
He might well think it necessary. For a night which Bristol was longto remember was closing down upon the city. Though it was Sunday, thechurches were empty; in few was a second service held. The streets, onthe contrary, were full, in spite of the cold; full of noise andturmoil and disorder; of bands of men hastening up and down withreckless cries and flaring lights, at the bidding of leaders asunwitting. In Queen's Square the rioters were drinking themselvesdrunk as at a fair, while amid the falling rain, through which thelast stormy gleams of daylight strove to pass, amid the thickeningdusk, those who all day long had jested at their doors began to turndoubtful looks on one another. From three points the smoke of firedprisons rose to the clouds and floated in a dense pall over the city;and men whispered that a hundred, two hundred, five hundred criminalshad been set free. On Clifton Downs, on Brandon Hill, on CollegeGreen, on Redcliffe the thousand gazers of the morning were doubledand redoubled. But they no longer wore the cynical faces of themorning. On the contrary there were some who, following with theireyes the network of waterways laden with inflammable shipping, whichpierced the city in every direction--who, tracing these and thecutthroat alleys and lanes about them, predicted that the morningwould find Bristol a heap of ruins. And not a few, taking fright atthe last moment, precipitately removed their families to Clifton, andlocked up their houses.
Vaughan, as he walked through the dusk, had those waterways, thoselanes, those alleys, the congested heart of the old city, in his mind.He doubted, even he, if the hour for action was not past. Nor was hesurprised when Brereton met his appeal with a flat _non possumus_. Hewas more struck with the change which twenty-four hours had wrought inthe man. He looked worn and haggard. The shadows under his eyes weredeeper, the eyes shone with a more feverish light. His dress, too, wascareless and disordered, and while he was not still for a moment, herepeated what he said over and over again as if to persuade himself ofits truth.
Naturally Vaughan laid stress on the damage already done. "But, I tellyou," Brereton replied angrily, "we are well clear for that! It's nota tithe of the harm which would have befallen if I had given way! Itell you, we're well clear for that. No, I've done, thank God, I'vedone the only thing it was possible to do. A little too much, and ifI'd succeeded I'd have been hung--for they're all against me, they'reall against me, above and below! And if I'd failed, a thousand liveswould have paid the bill! And do you ever consider, man," hecontinued, striking the table, "what a massacre in this crowded placewould be! Think of the shipyards, the dockyards, the quays! The waterpits and the sunk alleys! How could I clear them with ninety swords?How could I clear them? Eh, with ninety swords? I tell you they nevermeant me to clear them."
"But why not clear the wider streets, sir?" Vaughan persisted, "andkeep a grip on those?"
"No! I say, no!"
"Yet even now, if you were to move your full force to Queen's Square,sir, you might clear it. And driven from their headquarters, andtaught that they are not going to have it all their own way, the moreprudent would fall off and go home."
"I know," Brereton answered. "I know the argument. I know it. Butwho's to thank for the whole trouble? Your Blues, who went beyondtheir orders last night. The Fourteenth, sir! The Fourtee
nth! But I'llhave no more of it. Flixton is of my opinion, too."
"Flixton is an ass!" Vaughan cried incautiously.
"And you think me one too!" Brereton retorted, with so strange a lookthat for the first time Vaughan was sure that his mind was tottering."Well, think what you like! Think what you like! But I'll trouble younot to take that tone here."
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